


An Enigma

by agirlnamedmaria



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: All of the newsies - Freeform, Arguing, Backstory, Best Friends, Bilingual Character(s), Concussions, Fight Scene, Gen, Miscommunication, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Strike, bootblacks (shoe shiners), death is mentioned, description of injury, mentions of gambling, polio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-22 23:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedmaria/pseuds/agirlnamedmaria
Summary: Crutchie is popular among the newsboys. He is loved and doted upon but do any of the newsies really know him?Race is more perceptive than anyone thought. What exactly does he see?Just two days will change everything for these two boys.





	An Enigma

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for making the decision to give this story a try. I wanted to do more creative writing and this is the result.  
Warning: -there is a very minor mention of death -there is a large fight scene near the end but it isn't graphic -there are mentions of gambling -there's description of injury (including symptoms of a concussion, so there's also vomit)  
Please enjoy!

The Manhattan sun was hitting the middle of the sky when Race handed his last paper to a man who had just won big at the races, which was this newsie's favorite spot to sell. He pulled his cap off his head and wiped the sweat off his brow; then began the half hour walk home.  
When Race got back to the lodging house he noticed all the other boys who had come back from selling papers first crowding around one of the extra bunks. All Race could see was Jack’s head peeking out over the top of all of the boys. Race squeezed through and saw a little boy, probably about seven years old, sitting on the bottom bunk. He had light brown hair, dirtied from the disgusting New York streets. His cheeks and hands were muddy and the boy was dressed similarly to the rest of the newsies, sans the famous cap. He was clutching a dilapidated brown stuffed rabbit to his chest and he had silent tears streaming down his face. Every once in a while a small hiccup would escape him. Race looked back and forth incredulously between the newsies and the kid.  
“Why isn’t anyone helpin’ him?” Race loudly whispered. “The kid’s cryin’ and you all are just standin’ here.”  
“I don’t think the kid speaks English,” Jack replied nervously over the clamor of the teenagers. “I found him sitting in the back alley behind the bakery when I was gonna buy myself something to eat. I brought him here but he keeps makin’ noises like ‘ick’ and ‘ine’. I dunno what ta do with ’em. We’ve tried talkin’ to ’im but he don’t know what we’se sayin’. I’ve never had an immigrant kid in here before that didn’t speak English.”  
“Didn’t the leader before you have a couple?” Specs asked.  
“Well yeah, but Jumper was real good at speakin’ and was able to teach ’em some.”  
Finch then butted in with, “Fellas, I don’t know what we’re gonna do with this kid but we gotta go sell the evenin’ pape and he’s asleep now. If we wanna pick up some grub before we sell we gotta go now.”  
The rest of the young men decided that the kid would be fine until they all got back later that night after selling. Many of the boys hadn’t gone to the lodging house in between selling times, such as Henry, who preferred to eat at Jacobi’s on the days that he had made a heftier profit than usual; and Crutchie, who sold at the docks and took longer to get back (he decided that it would be easier on his leg to stay out all day instead of walking around so much).  
The newsies who knew of the strange kid sleeping in the house just hoped that one of them would get back first to warn the absentees of the child’s presence and their current predicament.  
Race started his walk to the distribution center and pondered the child’s origins and what they were going to do with him when they got back.

* 

It was now nine o’clock at night. Race and Jack had managed to get the kid to pick at the stale end of a loaf of bread that had been saved from the nuns in the morning. He quietly nibbled the crust he was given and every once in a while he would mumble words that none of the newsies could understand.  
But, at the moment the newsies minds were filled with concern of something else. Both Crutchie and Elmer were missing. They would usually come back about an hour prior. Race was beginning to get nervous because the only reason that one of the boys would be so late is that they were out with a pretty girl or getting soaked. The former wasn’t really something that the two boys were known to do.  
Just as Race was coming in through the window from his evening smoke, the door slid open and two hunched figures limped through the threshold. Race ran to them and grabbed on to the first person’s arm frantically.  
“Hey! Are you two okay?” Race raised his voice slightly. Jack and Specs jogged over while the rest of the boys looked on from different parts of the room.  
Elmer looked up at met Race’s eyes with a small smile, “I’m A-OK but I could say otherwise for Crutchie here. He had quite the run-in with some bootblacks over by Central Park.”  
“Gee, it was nothin’,” Crutchie said with his head still down. “Just a little tussle.”  
“Crutchie,” Jack said sternly causing Crutchie’s interest in his shoes to increase tenfold. “Let me see your face.”  
Slowly, Crutchie raised his head and in the day’s dying light Race saw that his friend had a black eye and his nose was slowly dripping blood.  
“Boy Crutch, that’s quite the black eye ya got there,” Albert chuckled from the back of the room where he was playing cards with Mush and Kid Blink.  
“You shoulda seen the other guys!” Crutchie called back across the room. Many of the boys let out a laugh. Crutchie was known for getting himself into fights but he was also able to hold his own. A lot of those guys had been backed up by Crutchie in a fight, though he was usually being hovered over by Jack, but many more have had to save him from much bigger enemies or had to pull him off of some poor schmuck who had made the grave mistake of insulting him.  
“Crutchie did a great job out there in against those boneheads. They were running away from him in the end. All I had ta do was yell a few things at ’em to make sure they knew never ta come back and mess wit ’em,” Elmer said matter-of-factly.  
Jack interjected, “Crutchie, we talked about this. You can’t just go around gettin’ in fights again. Not after-”  
“Jack!” Crutchie exclaimed, “I’m fine. The Refuge has been shut down. It’s all gonna be okay. You can’t always protect me!”  
Crutchie was close to yelling at this point. Crutchie only raised his voice every once in a while. All the newsboys had noticed over the past few months how overbearing Jack had started being towards Crutchie. Race just assumed that it was because he felt responsible for Crutchie getting sent to the Refuge during the strike. The newsies had also noticed how Crutchie had been getting in fights more and talking back to the Delanceys more often in the morning before Jack could get a chance to.  
“Yeah, I know, Crutchie,” Jack took off his cap and ran a hand through his hair. He then lowered his voice so that only Crutchie, Race, Elmer, and Specs could hear, “I’m sorry. I was so scared when you got taken to the Refuge and I just figured that I needed ta make it up to ya after I was such a bad brother.” Crutchie and Jack locked eyes. Race could see a bond shared over many years get resolidified right before him.  
Jack then spoke at a normal volume, “And, today has been crazy ‘cuz of this new kid that don’t speak English. I’ve been tryna figure out what ta do with ’em.”  
Race was suddenly brought back to the little kid sitting in the corner of the room, isolated from the rest of the boys. It seemed that the rest of the newsboys had forgotten about the boy as well because Race had the pleasure of witnessing all of their heads quickly swiveling towards him. The boy seemed all of the sudden aware that he had about twenty pairs of eyes on him. His head shot up, his eyes wide as he examined the room and all of it’s occupants.  
He seemed anxious but still he made an attempt to reach out to the group, especially to Crutchie and Elmer, in the hope that one of the new people would understand him.  
“Hallo,” peeped the little boy breaking the silence.  
“That’s the only thing that comes out of him that makes sense,” Jack proclaimed loudly, destroying any sense of calm that the group had momentarily achieved.  
Race looked over to Crutchie and Elmer to see their reactions to this kid and to make a comment on the absurdity of the situation but then he saw the look on Crutchie’s face. Crutchie’s eyes narrowed slightly and he seemed to have an epiphany. Crutchie slowly turned to Jack.  
“Jack, you said that you think the kid don’t speak any English, right?”  
“Uhhh, yep. Why?”  
“I have an idea. It probably won’t work but there’s a chance, so I’m gonna try.”  
“Sure,” Finch strutted over to the group and crossed his arms. “We’ve been tryin’ all day. Who says you can just come in ‘ere an’ figure out how ta talk to this kid?”  
“Hey!” Race jumps in, “Give ’im a shot. He’s one of da smartest in ‘ere anyway.”  
“Fine,” Finch rolled his eyes as he took slow steps backwards to his original position, “But I won’t say I told ya so if he still ain’t makin’ any sense.”  
“Okay fellas, can we get a move on already. Get outta my way Racetrack,” Crutchie said as he hobbled towards the kid.  
Albert mocked Race from where he was sitting in the window, “Woah Racer, pullin’ out the full name!”  
“Aww shuddup Albert,” Race threw back.  
“Woulda all pipe down! You’re gonna scare the kid,” Jack yelled.  
Albert and Race stopped talking but were still glaring at one another from opposite ends of the room. Meanwhile, Crutchie painfully lowered himself down on the bed next to the little boy. The room grew quiet as they all held their breath, waiting to see what Crutchie was about to do. Crutchie simply reached out his hand to the child and with a kind smile he uttered something that none of the Newsies could understand:  
“Hallo! Mein Name ist Crutchie. Wie heißen sie?”  
The boy seemed to understand perfectly. For the first time since any of the newsies had met him he smiled. His face held so much joy that he looked like he was going to burst. Race looked to Jack and he assumed that Jack’s look of confusion perfectly mirrored his own. He saw all the other boys looking at one another with disbelief. Crutchie seemed to have gotten through to the kid. Then the kid decided to start talking back.  
“Ich bin Emil! Du sprichst Deutsch? Ebenfalls, du hast einen lustigen Namen.”  
He began to launch into a full conversation with Crutchie. All the newsies looked on in full admiration at what Crutchie had achieved. This kid was talking animatedly, as if he was telling the most amazing story and Crutchie was also adding in with comments of his own, but this was all still in some other foreign language.  
“I told you so,” Race deadpanned to a dumbfounded Finch.  
After a while, it seemed that Crutchie had convinced the kid to go to bed. Crutchie tucked him in and whispered one last thing to him before he walked away to join the rest of the boys.  
Race and all the other boys were staring at him, nonplussed. Their silence and the looks that they were giving him stopped him dead in his tracks. A toothy grin appeared on Crutchie’s face as he realized why they are looking at him like that.  
“So fellas, how was everyone’s day today?” Crutchie couldn’t contain his laugh as he sat down on the sofa with Mush and Tommy Boy.  
All the boys immediately began asking questions and doing their best to talk over one another.  
“Who’s that kid?”  
“What were ya sayin’ to eachudda?”  
“Were ya speakin’ Scottish?”  
“Scottish people speak English, dummy.”  
The questions went on and on until Jack finally called for silence. He gave way for Crutchie to speak.  
“Well, the kid’s name is Emil. He is seven years old and he is from Germany. He came here with his parents last year but they died in one of the factories when it caught on fire. Ya know, the one ‘round da street.” Crutchie took a deep breath, “Emil says that he’d been livin’ on da streets ‘til Jackie here found ‘im. He is very thankful but he did say that all of you were very loud.”  
The newsboys all chuckled and started to fracture into their own conversations about the boy they now know as Emil. Just as Crutchie and Jack were about to head up to the roof for the night Race was possessed to ask his biggest question.  
“Hey Crutch, I knows that we’re all thinkin’ it so I’m just gonna ask it; what’s the deal with you knowin’ German an’ all?”  
Crutchie gave them a confused look. Race became confused himself. Was he expected to know the answer to his question already. He looked to Jack and saw that Jack didn’t know what was going on either, so he was at least comforted by that fact.  
Crutchie took a step back towards them, “I thought you all already knew ‘bout this?”  
He said it more as a question than a statement. A veil of bewilderment covered his face temporarily before he gave all the newsies a smile and sat back down on the couch.  
“I guess I can just tell all you now, no harm in it. Before I started hawkin’ headlines I lived with my parents and my brothers and sister. They were tailors an’ they taught me a lot of the tricks of the trade. We were livin’ in Germany, Munich to be exact, ‘til I was about nine. Then, we came over ‘ere and started our tailorin’ business over in Brooklyn.”  
This is when the boys felt the need to interject. Shouts rang out throughout the lodging house.  
“You was over Brooklyn!”  
“Crutchie, how dare you!”  
“Did ya meet Spot Conlon over dere?”  
Crutchie had to put a stop to it, “Gents! Calm down. I’m not gonna make you fellas listen’ to my tragic backstory. Jack and I should probably just head up to the roof now anyways.”  
Crutchie began to stand again but a quiet voice spoke up.  
“I would like to hear the rest.”  
It was Smalls. He was one of the younger newsies in the lodging house, though he wasn’t too young. Lately, there weren’t many young boys living with them, most were living with their families and weren’t “street waifs” like the rest of them.  
Crutchie gave Smalls a reassuring, gentle smile, “Okay then, lemme finish my story. Anyway, polio came ‘round ‘bout two years later and it got me, my ma, an’ my little brother. I was the only one that lived but I got my bum leg from it. You all know that,” he laughed but all the boys were leaning forward, entranced by the tale he was weaving. They had always wondered about his life before the newsies but had been afraid to ask because of what dark past they might accidentally force to surface.  
“Well, at that point, my other brother had left for Washin’ton for all da gold he heard was up there. I haven’t seen ‘im since. So, it was just my da and my sister. My da ended up wasting all of his money on the races, so I decided to leave like my brotha and see what was out there, ya know.  
“I tried ta work in da factories but the hours were too long and it was too dangerous. I saw a girl get her hand stuck in one a’ dem machines and I just got outta dere. Then I tried to be a bootblack ‘cuz I thought staying in one place all day would be good for my leg but they’se real mean so I wandered ‘round Brooklyn lookin’ for work and Spot found me.”  
Race interjected, “Wait. You actually know Spot Conlon? I thought that was just a story dumb-as-a-rock-Tommy Boy made up one day.”  
“Hey! I should be the one callin’ you dumb as a rock Mister Racer,” Tommy Boy shot back from next to Crutchie.  
“Boys, we really don’ need anyone gettin’ punked tonight,” Jack sighed, “Don’t make me take you two outta here already.”  
Race laughed, “Jeez Jackie Boy, take it easy. We was just jokin’ around. Right Tommy Boy?”  
“Ye-ah,” Tommy Boy stammered. “We was just jokin’. Please don’t make us leave!”  
Jack shot them a scrutinizing glance before turning back to Crutchie. “Go on,” he said.  
“If ya says so, we’se havin’ a wonderful conversation out here,” Crutchie laughed. “As I was sayin’, Spot found me out on the streets and offered ta get me a job, but he didn’t want me hangin’ ‘round in Brooklyn no more after I was there a week or so. He had to fight off too many guys for me or somethin’. So, he walked me over to ‘Hattan and we had a meetin’ wit’ “da famous Jack Kelly”. Spot neva’ let any a’ his boys call Jack that though ‘cuz we had the “King of Brooklyn” right in front of us.”  
Many of the boys giggled at this. Those who had met Spot Conlon thought that it was hilarious that the short, intimidating man would be so territorial, though they all knew that that’s the way he operates. The boys who hadn’t met him still thought that it was funny, but they had a much easier time believing that this was the way Spot is. He had always been a sort of nightmare figure, that if you didn’t behave or do what Jack said Spot Conlon would come after you.  
Race was a Brooklyn newsie for the majority of his life. He joined the newsboys when he was about the same age as their newest recruit, Emil. It was rare to get a kid that young in the newsies. Most of the boys were from eight to seventeen years old. Race was becoming one of the oldest boys though. He would probably take over as the leader of the newsies in a few months assuming that Jack would be switching over to working as a cartoonist full time.  
But, from Race’s childhood in Brooklyn, he did vaguely remember a kid with a crutch coming into the Brooklyn lodging house and living there for a few weeks before leaving one day. He didn’t really think much of it at the time. The Brooklyn boys were never really close to one another. Race probably would have gotten to know that kid if he had stayed longer. All he remembered of that kid was his smile and how he would mend the newsboys’ ripped clothing for no cost.  
Race felt the need to say something, even if there was a chance that this kid wasn’t Crutchie, “Hey Crutch, I remember there bein’ a kid in Brooklyn who had a limp and would fix up our old clothes back in ‘96. He only stayed a couple weeks. Was that you?”  
Crutchie looked thoughtful for a second, leaning his elbows forward on his knees and looking up into the air. He shrugged and the corners of his mouth turned up, “I guess it could’ve been me. I wasn’t there too long so I don’t really know how many kids with bum legs were comin’ in an’ outta there an’ fixin’ shirts.”  
“Haha, I guess. But we do agree that it was you, right?”  
Crutchie chuckled, “Of course!”  
“Woah fellers, Crutchin’ Morris and Racetrack Higgins have a his’try. We betta watch out, they might start makin’ secret plans behind our backs,” Albert called.  
“Oh shut your trap Albert, you’re just jealous of Racer. He gets ta be friends with the Spot Conlon and he met Cruthie foist!” Mush shot back, taking the words right out of Race’s mouth.  
“Also, what does it mean ‘makin’ secret plans,” Romeo asked, “You ain’t makin’ any sense.”  
Albert slumped against the wall, glaring at Mush and Buttons at a loss for words. At this point, many of the younger newsies had fallen asleep. The boys that were still awake were quietly chatting in small groups while they waited for the argument to die down and for Crutchie to continue to speak. Eventually he began again.  
“Well, not much happened afta that none a ya don’t know already. I came to live here with all ‘a you boys. I still go an’ visit my sister and Spot sometimes, Spot more though. He really looked out for me and I looked out for him. We was like fam’ly when neither ‘a us had none no more. But I like it here in Manhattan a lot better. The people are nicer and there are better places to sell.  
“But you boys is like my family now, an’ I’ve been dealin’ with ya since I was eleven so there ain’t no backin’ out now,” he said with a laugh which the rest of the newsies reciprocated. “Well, we’ve been talkin’ for long enough. We should all get some sleep now. See you in the mornin’, fellas! Let’s go Jack.”  
Race and all the other newsboys waved and gave quiet goodbyes. Jack and Crutchie swiftly clambered through the window and up towards the roof.  
“Well, that sure was a wild night,” Race exclaimed as he lifted himself off the floor and stretched while walking towards his bunk.  
The rest of the boys mumbled their assent as they tiredly stumbled in the direction of their beds. It had been a long night for all of them and they had definitely learned a lot more about their friend than they had originally anticipated. 

*  
The next morning the newsies got up and went about their daily routine as if nothing strange had happened the night before. Emil was lent a toothbrush, a bar of soap, an extra set of clothes, and one of the many infamous newsboy caps. Jack and Crutchie came down and began to get ready with the rest of them and Specs was running around the house trying to find one of his shoes.  
As the newsies began to clear out to go to the distribution center Jack whispered something to Crutchie that Race couldn’t hear from where he was. Then Race saw Crutchie walk over to Emil and begin to speak to him in German, which Race could hear but not comprehend.  
Race then walked out with the rest of the remaining boys and they are travelled together to get their papers.

Once they got to the distribution center the gates were still closed so some of the boys started a game of marbles with some that Finch stole the other day and others chatted with one another. Emil just sat on the curb next to Crutchie and Jack while they discussed something that seemed to be serious over his head.  
Then, the newsies who didn’t live in the lodging house showed up, two of which were Davey and Les. They came right over to Jack and Crutchie immediately. They noticed Emil quickly and made moves to introduce themselves. Race followed closely behind, watching to see what would happen next.  
“Hello! My name is Davey. I’m a friend of Jack and Crutchie.”  
“And I’m Les! Davey’s my big brother. I’m ten. How old are you? Are you a new newsboy?”  
Emil just stared at them. His eyes widening and the look on his face morphing into something akin to how he looked yesterday when he was being surrounded by all of the yelling newsies.  
Jack looked up to Davey quickly, “He doesn’t speak any English. He’s German.”  
Les and Davey’s faces rapidly changed to ones of shock and embarrassment. Especially Les, for he had been trying to say a lot to Emil. But, this was when Crutchie took control of the situation.  
He said to Emil, “Das sind Davey und Les. Sie sind meine Freunde. Kannst du deinen Namen sagen?”  
Les looked shocked but Emil looked so excited to get to have his first real interaction with someone besides Crutchie or Jack.  
He pointed at himself and said haltingly, with a heavy accent, “I am Emil.”  
Crutchie’s face broke into one of the largest smiles that Race had ever seen him wear. Emil hesitantly looked at Crutchie and when seeing his face Emil took on a smile of his own.  
Crutchie felt the need to exclaim, “Das war erstaunlich!”  
“Vielen dank,” Emil blushed.  
Race felt like an intruder on this seemingly intimate moment. He looked in Jack’s direction and saw that he was feeling the same. Jack was looking at the ground in the opposite direction and was tracing invisible pictures on the street with a twig. But, Davey just smiled, knelt down to be at eye level with Emil, and held out his hand. Emil looked at his hand for a second before hesitantly reaching out his own, small, hand.  
Davey looked over to Crutchie and said, “Have you introduced him to all the other boys?”

The next seven minutes were spent with Crutchie and Emil moving around the newsies as fast as they could. Race, Davey, and Jack just looked on from afar (Les had gone to try to play marbles with the older boys). It seemed that the two boys had only been able to reach Albert, Henry, Romeo, and Finch. Finch showed Emil his slingshot and Henry gave him a miniature marble shooting demonstration.  
Then, the Delanceys walked up to the gate and all of the newsies quickly gathered around. Crutchie, Jack, and Race were front and center, as usual, but this time Emil was pressed between them. Oscar unlocked the gate and he and Morris pulled it open as the newsies threw a few small insults at them. As should have been expected Morris caught sight of Emil and maliciously leered at him. Emil noticed him and immediately recoiled. Morris let out an unpleasant cackle at the kid’s reaction.  
“Well look what we have here Oscar. A weak little newbie. I’d bet a dollar that he quits on the first day,” Morris sneered.  
Race quickly, and somewhat roughly, pulled Emil behind him, “Hey, Morris! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”  
Romeo jumped in, “He would understand that he’s messin’ with a seven year old but his brain’s too tiny.”  
The rest of the newsies shouted their agreement and shot a few more jabs at the Delanceys. After that, most of the newsies had left to go get their papers and sell. Race could see that it was starting to heat up between the Delanceys and the remaining newsboys at the gate and that he still had Emil with him. He turned the the person next to him, which was Buttons, thankfully (he was known to dislike fighting), and ushered Emil towards him.  
He said as quietly as he could to Buttons, “Take ‘im away from this until you are sure that the fighting is over. People are gonna be shinning around all over an’ I don’t want you two gettin’ hurt. Don’t go too far though. Got it, bud?”  
Buttons nodded solemnly, “Sure thing, boss. I’ll take care of the kid.”  
Buttons grabbed Emil’s hand and ran with him to hide behind some empty crates from the grocer next door. Race gave them one last look and then turned back to the current conflict. Jack was right in Morris’ face with Crutchie and Albert watching from right behind him. Oscar was standing off to the side egging on Romeo and Finch. Then, Race saw that Morris was about to pull back his fist to punch Jack square in the jaw. Race sprinted up to Jack and pushed him out of the way right in time but not in time for him to avoid Morris’ knuckles slamming into the side of his head. Race tripped over his feet into Jack’s chest. Race touched his head where he was hit, he didn’t feel any blood but he did feel a large bump forming. Unfortunately, Oscar and Morris had apparently found the time to put on their brass knuckles during the fight because Racetrack was in a lot more pain than he originally expected.  
Race felt himself get jostled a little from behind and then saw Jack running in to throw a punch at Morris, Albert following close behind.  
He turned around and saw Oscar tackle both Finch and Romeo at once.  
Race turned again and saw Tommy Boy and Henry trying to move out some of the younger newsies (“grab your papes and go, kids”).  
He turned once more and saw Oscar and Morris standing up and cracking their knuckles, ready to truly dive into the fight. Then they called to one of the muscular young men that worked in the back of the distribution center to help them. He came lumbering out of the center in Albert’s direction.  
There was so much going on and Race couldn’t keep track of it all. He looked over to where Davey and Mush were standing. Mush was shouting at Davey loud enough for Race to hear, “You can’t pitch a punch to save your life! Just get outta the way.”  
Davey shot back, “Then you’re coming with me!” Then he grabbed Mush by the wrist and they ran down one of the alleys out of sight.  
Suddenly, the full force of Race’s head injury hit him. Dizzily, he began to stumble backwards until he hit a wall, then he slid down until he was in a sitting position. Race’s ears were ringing and he swiftly leaned over and vomited what little he had in his stomach on the ground next to him.  
When Race looked up again, everything was different. Romeo was across the square on the ground, unconscious, while Finch was standing over him shooting marbles at Oscar. Finch seemed to be favoring his left leg. Albert and Jack were fighting with Morris and it seemed like they were winning. The man from the distribution center disappeared from sight and Race was unable to locate him. When Race looked to find Crutchie he saw him crawling across the hard stone trying to reach his crutch which was thrown away by one of his adversaries. His bad leg was definitely causing him much more trouble than usual as he was dragging across the ground.  
This fight with the Delanceys was worse than most. Many of their fights didn’t go past a few good-natured punches or a kick in the shins, maybe followed by a dramatic chase through the streets.  
Suddenly, Finch fell to his knees and began struggling to pick up Romeo and carry him out of the square. He called to Albert right as he picked up Romeo, “Albie! You gotta get Oscar! Albert! Jack!” But Albert and Jack were too far away to hear. Finch didn’t even seem to see Race on the ground so he just ran away in the direction of the lodging house with Romeo in his arms.  
With that, Oscar was no longer being attacked and was given a moment of reprieve. He looked to his brother and almost ran to him but then he saw Race slumped against the wall. For the first time since he was hit in the head, Race saw what was going to happen with perfect clarity. Oscar was going to destroy him. Oscar was decidedly the more vitriolic of the two Delancey brothers. He was the one that Race was a little bit afraid of. Race knew that something terrible was going to happen as Oscar took slow steps towards him with a wide, sadistic grin. Race was helpless in all respects, he could hardly think straight, much less get up and start throwing punches or call for help.  
He saw in the distance that Jack and Albert had left too and Morris was collapsed on the ground. He was completely alone and Oscar was getting even closer.  
“Hey Racer, you don’t look too good,” he sneered. He picked Race up by his shirt causing a wave of nausea to roll through him. Even though Race didn’t think he could even manage to sit up on his own in his current state but he felt the need to make some sort of show of rebellion. He gathered as much spit as he could in his mouth and spat it at Oscar’s face. Oscar’s whole face went red and just as he was about to scream something at Race, Race saw a flash of wood, a thump, a shout, and then he was dropped. Race hit the hard ground right on his side, knocking the wind out of him. He groaned in harmony with the sounds of punches and exclamations of pain right next to him. Suddenly, one last abrupt sound rang out through the square. All Race could hear after then was panting and occasionally a small hiss of pain and an “oof” or “ouch”. Race pushed himself up on his elbows. What he saw in front of him amazed him.  
Race saw Crutchie standing up with the help of his crutch over an unconscious Oscar. The still-rising sun haloed his head and bathed him in a heavenly light. But, Crutchie was battered and bruised. He held his head up with the fortitude of a trained soldier having just gone into battle. It probably came from his many nights in the Refuge. Race realized that Crutchie was one of the strongest people he had ever met, not just with physical strength but every other aspect of himself too.  
Abruptly, Race’s internal soliloquy was cut off by Crutchie’s grimace and and hand reaching down to Race. Race only stared at his hand, unmoving.  
He exhaled his question, “Crutchie?”  
Crutchie seemed to sense that Race wasn’t moving on his own for a little while so he painfully dropped himself next to Race with more than a couple hurt noises accompanying the action. But, Crutchie looked over and smiled at Race as genuinely as he could, “That was quite a soakin’ Racer. Where did they get ya?”  
Race studied the Newsies Square as he spoke, “Just my ‘ead.”  
“Oh yeah, I saw that. He got a good hit on you.”  
“Hmmm.”  
Crutchie started, making Race jump, “Race you’re bleeding! From your head!”  
Race gingerly touched his hand to his head and sure enough, his fingers came away with blots of red on them. While he was gawking at the blood on his fingers, Crutchie had ripped off some of the fabric on his crutch and was dabbing at Race’s head with it. Once Race realized what Crutchie was doing he pushed his hands away and gaped at him.  
“Why are you doing this, Crutchie?” he asked. “You didn’t have to protect me from Oscar and you don’t have to be tendin’ to my wounds and such. You coulda just left a long time ago and saved yourself. Now you’re all beat up for my sake. What’s that all about, huh?”  
Crutchie fixed him with a piercing, but gentle look that explained everything to Race without Crutchie even having to open his mouth.  
“Du bist mein bruder, Race. You are my family. Families look out for each other.”  
Race slowly digested this as he sat back against the wall, staring out into the busy street ahead. Crutchie mimicked his stance and gaze. Even though the city around them was loud, they had their own bubble of calm. All was perfect in that very second and there was nothing stopping that moment for the two of them. Neither of them felt their wounds or had thoughts of the money that they lost from missing their sales that morning. They just felt the peace of the square melting through their bones. This tranquility could have gone on forever and the two boys would be completely content with that.  
“I love you, Crutch.”  
“Love you too, Racer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I truly apologize for my awful German. I tried to keep everything canon (minus the head canons that the story is based on, of course). I hope that you had fun reading it and that you liked it.  
-Maria


End file.
